The True Love of Destiny

Hermione Granger sat on a stone bench in a beautiful garden. She pulled a rose to her nose, breathing deeply the rich scent. This is such a gorgeous place, she thought a bit forlornly.

It was late summer, and she had graduated from Hogwarts the previous year. The end of year had been such a horrible time for her and her friends. The final battle with Voldemort had taken a huge toll. Half the castle had been destroyed, and so many of the students had been killed. She had been proud to have graduated at the top of her class, yet it seemed so trivial compared to the suffering and loss.

The worst part was that it wasn't over. There were many Death Eaters still at large, determined to seek revenge for Lord Voldemort's defeat. Ron and Ginny had gone into hiding, along with many of the other Weasleys. She had been sent alone to this secret hideaway, protected by a Fidelius Charm. The Secret Keeper was her most cherished friend -- and more than a friend. She sighed, and hugged herself as she thought lovingly of him.

The castle where she was staying had been a surprise. Harry had found it among the assets held by his parents. It was enormous, with grounds to match. The gardens stretched seemingly endlessly over green rolling hills. The castle also had an extensive library, which she had spent many hours exploring. The studying had distracted her temporarily, but eventually she had been unable to read with all of her worries.

The castle also had an extensive staff of house elves, which had made her very uncomfortable at first. She had finally accepted that the castle needed a staff to take care of it, but she fully intended to make sure Harry paid them in the future.

Harry can certainly afford it, she thought to herself. She had known intellectually that Harry was wealthy, but somehow seeing it all in front of her made it all too real.

Despite all the luxury, and as beautiful as the castle was, Hermione was unhappy. The castle felt like a prison. And she was lonely for her one true love.

* * *

Hermione was sitting at her beautiful dressing table, in her large, elaborate bedroom. The room seemed almost as large as the Gryffindor common room, which had embarrassed her at first. She looked in the mirror, inspecting herself critically. She began to brush out her beautiful, silky hair, which fell over her shoulders. She was so happy that she had found that hair-straightening spell in the castle library. She only had to cast it once a month.

She looked over to a large writing desk in the bedroom, which was piled high with books. A stack of essays was sitting nearby, but she hadn't looked at her work in weeks. Her heart felt like a huge weight was hanging from it. She sighed as she looked in the mirror at the silky dressing gown she was wearing. It was dark green, with a low-cut neckline. Her lace bodice was visible through the fine, sheer material.

She chuckled as she looked at her clothes. She had been quite shocked at the extensive stock of attire available at the castle. The house elves had insisted on tailoring some elaborate outfits for her. She had refused at first, but finally relented as they had seemed so heartbroken at her rejection.

If she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she liked wearing the fine garments. She felt -- sexy, and that wasn't a feeling that she had felt often at Hogwarts. Not that there was much point to it, but perhaps ... soon. Soon he would come.

She had always looked down on fortune telling at Hogwarts, often rolling her eyes at Trelawney's antics. But lately she felt -- a strange connection, as if the love in her heart reached across the distance to find him. She knew that he was doing his duty, the task for which he was born. He had to conquer the last remaining Death Eaters so the world could be safe. Only then could they move forward to their destiny.

Hermione walked over the window, and gazed out at the full moon. It was a sparkling, clear evening with a light breeze. The stars formed a milky canopy over the castle, giving a perfect peace to the scene.

As she watched the moon, she saw a strange shadow fly across the brilliant light. It looked like a man on a broomstick, but she didn't dare hope. She sat on the windowsill, her heart thudding in her chest. She felt an excitement she hadn't felt in months. Each of her nerve endings seemed to tingle as she agonizingly waited in anticipation.

She turned as a loud rapping came at the door. Her heart quickened. Somehow she knew -- he was here. Her true love was coming to claim her at last.

She walked to the door, and paused. She smoothed down her gown, and patted her hair. She opened the door, and Harry Potter walked through the door. Her breath caught, as he moved commandingly into the room.

His heavily muscled body seemed to ripple as he surveyed the room making sure it was safe. His Auror training had filled out his body to immense proportions, so different from the boy he had been at Hogwarts. He appeared to have been in a recent fight. His black robes were mere tatters, his chest and stomach exposed. His ruggedly handsome face had several cuts and bruises. The flaws only seemed to make him more manly and powerful.

He seemed to be satisfied with the room, and turned his attention to her. Her knees felt weak as she noticed his massive chest, which seemed to draw her eyes down to his tight, cut abdomen.

"Hermione," his deep voice rumbled. She was certain no woman's name had ever been spoken with such deep meaning. It seemed to hold the promise of a thousand loves, almost a thunder coming down from the sky. He said nothing else. He didn't need to. Just the saying of the name told her everything she needed to know. She was his, at last. And he had come to claim her.

He began to stride toward her, his emerald green eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the room. He reached out a single enormous arm and firmly brought her to him. Her knees finally gave out, and she allowed him to support her weight. Her hand came up, seemingly of its own accord. She ran her fingers across his chest, feeling the pectorals quiver at her touch.

Suddenly her windows banged open, and the wind swirled into the room. Harry's hair flew about his face heroically, while her hair created a wave of silk billowing behind her. Her gown blew open, exposing her bodice. She turned her face up to his, and looked into his eyes, those endless pools of green, and felt herself drowning in his gaze. The gaze that seemed filled with the pain of his life, the pain of the responsibility of saving the world.

She knew that while he was strong, so strong, she could ease him in ways that only a woman could do for a man. She waited for him to take what belonged to him.

He leaned down, and kissed her. The kiss was light at first, and Hermione felt herself being swept away in a tidal wave of heat and desire. Her hand, still stroking his chest, began stroking harder, pushing into the hard muscle. His kiss deepened, as he wrapped his arms around her like tight steel bands. The safety of being in his arms only further inflamed her desire.

He broke the kiss, and seemed to make a decision. He reached down, and effortlessly lifted her off her feet into his arms. He forcefully carried her to the bed, and gently laid her down, her hair spread across the pillow. He looked at her, as if contemplating his possession. She could sense his need, his craving to be satisfied by her. She laid her arms at her side, silently telling him to take what he wanted.

He reached down, and tore open her bodice. She stopped breathing, and closed her eyes, just letting him gaze upon the curves of her large breasts.

"Please..." she begged, unable to wait any longer.

Harry pulled off his robes, and stood before her naked. She gasped at how beautiful his body was, how perfect. The famous scar on his forehead only enhanced the perfection that was his form. It seemed to have been sculpted from granite, except no stone radiated the kind of heat that emanated from him.

He entered the bed, suspending himself over her. She felt tiny underneath his massive body. Part of her was almost afraid of him, his colossal size. Yet her excitement was becoming unbearable. She had to give herself to him.

She opened herself completely to him, and he took her. Gently at first, then with a powerful need to be satisfied. A madness seemed to overtake her, as she reached around him, and pulled him to her. Pulling him harder and faster, her nails dug into his arms and back, pleasure and pain mixing as one. She screamed his name as sanity left her, and would possibly never return.

They abruptly exploded together in a paroxysm of pleasure, as the entire universe seemed to fly apart. She slumped back on the bed, exhausted. Harry pulled his weight off her, and laid down along her side. He gently stroked her hair, contemplating her.

"I love you, Hermione. I've always loved you," he said in his rumbling voice, as if speaking from Mount Olympus.

"Oh, Harry... I am yours, forever," she said, breathless.

"And I am yours. You know that I have important work to do in this world. I can't promise that I'll survive the coming battles. But I will never let anyone hurt you," said Harry, gazing into her eyes. His voice grew soft. "You are so beautiful."

She closed her eyes, drinking in the attention. Harry spoke again, regretfully. "I must go now. Remember my love -- I will always be here for you. Just call me, and I will come to you."

"Yes, my love," Hermione said reverently.

He gave her one last gentle, loving gaze, and then he looked up. He stared out the window, his face becoming harder, pained, as the weight of his responsibility replaced the temporary peace she had given him.

He rose powerfully from the bed. He dressed quickly, and moved to the door. He seemed to pause for a split second, but became resolute as he fiercely opened the door and stepped through it, not looking back. The door closed.

Hermione stared at the door, wanting to run after him, to beg him to stay with her. But she knew that he had a higher duty to the world. She knew in her heart that their destinies were intertwined like clinging vines in the Garden of Eden. She had to be patient, but her longing for him surged so powerfully. She had to be brave like the Gryffindor she was.

She had to be brave for him.